For the past 2 and 1/2 years, I have worked with the young women at our church. My responsibilities have included working directly with the Beehives (12-13 year olds) as well as helping to oversee the larger program of 12-18 year olds. We are in charge of teaching lessons tailored to these age groups on Sundays, as well as planning and executing mid-week activities.

This year, the church-wide theme for the youth is from 1 Timothy 4:12 – “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.” As the leaders of our particular group of young women, we felt that we couldn’t ask them to be examples of the believers without knowing what a believer is. So each week in the opening exercises of our lessons, we have asked various women from our congregation (ward) to prepare and read a statement of something that they believe. The “This I Believe” statements are based on the 1950s radio series hosted by acclaimed journalist, Edward R. Murrow, which was revived by NPR in 2005.

It has been amazing and inspiring to hear these women share such touching essays each week. We have learned much about the different women in our ward with whom we were not previously acquainted. And as leaders, we were all asked to put together our own “This I Believe” statement, and as this is my last week working with the girls, it’s my turn to present. Below is my essay, as I thought it was worth sharing, if for no other reason than to encourage everyone to take a minute and think about what it is you believe, and write it down!

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In August of 1999, I arrived on the beautiful campus of The University of Puget Sound. I was accompanied by my brother, my divorced parents, and a green Ford Explorer that towed a bright yellow U-Haul type trailer that was incredibly conspicuous and embarrassing. After we emptied the contents of the trailer into my dorm room and got the final furnishings from Target, I said goodbye to my family and watched enthusiastically as they drove away with the trailer. And then I looked around and realized I was alone. Incredibly alone. Not one person from my high school had come to the same college that I had. And why did it feel like everyone else already knew each other?

Seven short months before that day I had been baptized as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Most of my non-church friends at home still couldn’t understand why I’d made that decision. Most of my church friends couldn’t understand why I would choose to go to any college other than BYU or other church school. For all of my life I had always played by the rules, done exactly what was expected of me, and tried not ever to disappoint anyone. But here I was, having disappointed my parents by going to an out-of-state school, disappointed half my friends by joining the church, and disappointed the other half of my friends by not going to a church school. As I sat there realizing just how alone I was, I realized something else as well. I was in a new place where no one knew me, and now I had no expectations. I could be who I was meant to be, and I didn’t have to live according to anyone else’s idea of who I was.

This isn’t to say that I didn’t have standards. To the contrary, I set high standards for myself. But now my standards were based on my own values and not those to whom I felt indebted for whatever reason. I didn’t understand at that point how valuable this perspective would be further down the road. I believe that every able bodied person needs to create an opportunity to live away from the home they grew up in for at least one year. This can take many forms, whether going to college, serving a mission, or just simply moving away. It gives you the opportunity to find out who you are and who you are meant to be. It gives you a chance to live outside the expectations that you thought you always had for yourself. And if you decide to go back, you go back a truer version of yourself.

My first year at college, navigating this scary new freedom, was challenging. There were times I wanted to quit. But I didn’t. Instead, I grew and I learned and I changed. And I found that mine where the only expectations that really mattered in who I was to become.

When I announced that I was getting married the year before I was to graduate, many of my family members and old friends thought I was crazy. “Why wouldn’t you just wait until you graduate?” “Are you going to finish school?” When we decided to lengthen our engagement to last nine months, many of my new church friends thought that was weird. Many of them got engaged after us and married before us. When we decided to get married in the temple because we knew it was the best thing for our marriage and future family, we excluded and disappointed much of my family. When I graduated from college and then decided to pursue a Master’s degree, knowing that I would probably never use that education in the workforce, people couldn’t understand it. When all of my friends at graduate school were applying for jobs and I was preparing to have my first child and become a stay at home mom, people thought I was wasting my talent. When (if) I tell people I want to have five children, they look at me cross-eyed.

The world puts so many restrictions on us, labels us, and tries to categorize us. You have to be like this or like this. You have to be a mom OR a scholar, not both. You either get married young and be one of THOSE people, or you put it off so you can travel the world and have life experiences. Apparently, you can’t travel the world or have life experiences once you’re married.

This I believe…You can have it all. You can do it all. But you have to know what your all is. You don’t have to live in boxes because this group or that group tells you that’s what you’re supposed to do. I got married young AND I finished school. I had a baby AND I got a Master’s degree. I have children AND I still plan on traveling the world. I can be passionate about conservative politics AND still be friends with and enjoy the conversation of others who don’t believe like I do. I can be committed to my faith AND still learn about and appreciate others. I can choose not to drink alcohol AND still be fun to be around. I can stay home with my children AND still be involved with life, including running my own business or running for office. Do I make sacrifices? Yes. Can I do it all as quickly as I’d like to? Absolutely not. I may not have it all compared to someone else’s standards, and I may not do things the way others think I should. But as the British poet, William Ernest Henley wrote,

This, I truly believe.

After a long and napless Memorial Day spent enjoying family time in the city, we were eager to get the kids to bed a little early last night. But since we had played downtown all day in the sun, Nick and I were debating whether we should take the extra 20 minutes to bathe them first. Since we were at a loss for the best solution, we asked the expert for advice. Mylie immediately assured us that a bath was unnecessary, and we were perfectly happy getting the two of them to bed that much earlier.

Later, we were finishing up a rather long movie at about midnight when we heard the door to their room open, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet down the hall. When she appeared around the corner, I was expecting a complaint about a scary noise or a closet monster. But instead, what I heard was, “I think maybe I do want a bath after all.”

Really? A bath at midnight? After you’ve been sound asleep for over 4 hours? It appears our daughter is already deep within the throws of that womanly curse of not being able to turn your brain off at night… but with her it’s like mommy-brain on steroids. I swear the kid remembers the minutest details of events that happened six months ago, or about things that will happen within the next week… all well after she’s gone to bed. Poor thing, when she’s a mommy and has more weightier matters to set her brain on, she’ll probably have a nervous breakdown or a chronic sleep disorder.

So, I assured her that she didn’t need a bath at that moment, but I’d be happy to give her a hug before she went back to bed. She hopped on my lap for a little cuddle. I had an idea that her trip to the living room may have been spurred on by more than just a quest for cleanliness, so I asked her if she had been having any dreams. She nodded that she had, and when I questioned her about their content (again, expecting monsters or aliens), she responded without missing a beat.

“I was dreaming of Disneyworld. And Disneyland. And about dancing there with Cinderella and all of her princesses.”

Nice. But really, let’s tone it down, huh? We do not watch the Disney Channel in our house, and truly, her only real contact with Disneyland (not sure where she even heard that Disneyworld existed) was when I told her that we’d take her to the place once she stopped sucking her thumb. I didn’t even show her a picture! So how is it her girly brain is dreaming up dancing princesses like it was a stinking commercial? Well, apparently, a dream is a wish your heart makes, and this kid knows how to dream big… And how to be so stinking cute in the middle of the night that it just about makes her parents throw in the towel and make her wish come true…almost, but not quite.

On Sunday we got a call from Gallup. You know, the people in charge of doing most of the polling in the country. They requested to speak to the man of the house, as they were short on men in the poll. Nick answered a variety of questions while I listened in. It was really quite fun and interesting. But the funniest thing was, as I was listening in, I was thinking, “How funny that we were randomly selected by Gallup, when neither of us has ever even been selected for jury duty.” Well, the force must have been with me, because you’ll never guess what arrived in my mailbox the very next day? That’s right, I called up the universe and asked to have a juror summons delivered, and the universe provided. Weird.